


Yesterdays

by NancyBrown



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Childhood, Drama, Dreams, Dubious Consent, F/M, Horror, M/M, Memories, Video Game Logic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-13
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our yesterdays live on in our memories. So does he.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: mentions of dubious consent, reliance on dubious logic, high woobie factor, creepy!memory!alien, AU (no "Exit Wounds"), very minor spoiler for "Another Life"  
> Beta: **fide_et_spe** and **bookwormsarah**  
>  AN: This fell out of my head and was written in a day. Then my betas tidied it up.

He is four years old, and happy. Rhi is at school but Ianto is home all day long with Mam, helping her with the housework. He helps to fold the clothes and to stir the big pot for dinner, and she lets him watch cartoons. Dad's got extra hours at work and he's hardly ever here. When Rhi comes home from school, the three of them eat their tea together. Mam tells them stories, and gives them their bath, and shushes them to bed before the big door opens.

Part of his head pokes at him, scared of something, but he is warm and safe here, as Mam rocks him to sleep.

In the morning, he wakes up and eats his cereal while Rhi gets ready for school, Mam putting her hair into pigtails like every day. He watches Mam's hands shuffle each lock of dark hair, weaving the plaits. It's like magic.

"Now go play," Mam says, opening the back door for him to play in the garden. "Your best friend is home today."

Ianto frowns. "I want to stay in and help."

"Nonsense. It's beautiful outside." The door is wide open. The cat will get out, he thinks. Do they have a cat? As if called, a small white kitten mews at his feet. Ianto reaches down a small hand. Their cat had dark feet, he thinks, and sure enough, her little paws are dark. He must have missed it at first in the shadows.

"Go on," says Mam, and Ianto reluctantly goes outside to play. He has toys out here but they're never as much fun as other kids' toys. He picks one up, a small orange ball.

"There you are," says a voice. Ianto turns, sees another little boy of his age, with ginger hair and a big grin. "Do you want to play?"

"Suppose so." The child grabs his hand and they run deeper into the yard under the shade of the big trees. The little boy lives next door, Ianto remembers now. They like to make forts and play soldiers, and he is Ianto's very best friend. They settle under the biggest tree, which is their special hiding place.

"I bet I can climb to the top faster than you."

Ianto hesitates. The tree is tall, taller than he ever thought. He could fall.

"You'll be safe," the other boy says. "You're always safe with me. Remember?" He puts a friendly hand on Ianto's arm.

Adam grins and of course, Ianto remembers. He's always safe when Adam is around.

* * *

"Owen, any joy?"

"No," said Owen. "And before you ask again in two minutes, still no."

Jack tapped the railing nervously, noticed he was doing it, and put his hands in his pockets. From every angle, this was his fault, and he couldn't do anything about it except worry. He couldn't blame Rhys for mentioning at the wrong time, "Whatever happened to that Adam bloke?" Jack had been the one who had neglected to Retcon him in the first place. He couldn't blame Gwen for calling Jack immediately and explaining the problem. Things would have been far worse if that memory-altering bastard stayed crouching in Gwen's and Rhys's heads and the rest of the team hadn't been warned. Of course Jack hadn't been alone when he'd taken her frantic call.

Adam couldn't live in Owen's head anymore, even after Jack told him, couldn't alter his thoughts, but he could hide inside a memory when what they saw as his physical form was cornered by his former victims. It had just been a matter of who was closest when he leapt.

Ianto didn't look like he was asleep. The monitors Jack could see from here showed brain activity associated with long-term memory, not dreaming. Besides, Ianto only slept well curled on his side, not laid out like a corpse.

Jack moved from the railing. With Adam around, all their thoughts were suspect. If he was still in Jack's head somewhere, Jack didn't intend to give him the satisfaction of listening to the worry.

"Tosh!"

Her head bobbed up from her workspace. She pushed hair from her face, and for a moment, the worry seeped right back in. When they'd recovered their memories of the lost days, she'd found her own recollections highly upsetting. She was jumpy and ill at ease, and Jack had just shouted at her.

"Sorry," Jack said. "Any luck?"

"Not yet."

They'd gone through the archives, cross-referencing anything on mind-control, memory, or dreams. Jack remembered (Ha!) an artefact that they'd found in the late '70s. Now Tosh was trying to get it to work and modify it to help. Her biggest problems were not knowing if it ever had worked properly (Jack recalled some tests but they couldn't track down what the results had been), if it could access the same parts of Ianto's brain that Adam was currently inhabiting (very big if), and if they could then use it to root him out (Jack trusted Tosh's abilities, but they were in the deep grass).

"Okay. You'll … "

"I'll let you know."

Jack nodded. Normally, he'd put a reassuring hand on her shoulder right now, but Adam got into people by touch. He was inside Ianto, and until they knew for sure that he was _only_ inside Ianto, nobody was to come into close contact with anyone else except for their resident zombie.

That led Jack's attention back to the autopsy bay, where Owen was running every damn test he knew on Ianto.

"Don't ask," said Owen, when he noticed Jack watching.

* * *

He's eight, and the cast itches. "Don't stick things in there," says Dad, like he knows already about the pencils Ianto has been using to scratch. Mam doesn't say anything. She spends most of her time sitting in the rocking chair, watching the garden intently. Whenever a bird or a squirrel goes past the window, she holds her breath until it's out of sight. She let Ianto sit in her lap right after he broke his leg, but she says he's too big now, when she talks at all.

Rhi doesn't wear the careful plaits anymore. She's big enough to brush her own hair, and she's the one to nag Ianto to comb his, brush his teeth, wash his face, do his homework, go to bed.

"Leave your Mam alone," Dad says, and he goes back to watching the telly, unhappiness and guilt both radiating off him like fever. When he bothers with his children, Dad tells them what not to do. Don't bother Mam. Don't be so loud. Don't play in the house. Don't get dirty. Don't talk back.

Adam is here. He has a hand on Ianto's arm. He likes to hold hands but Dad says only sissy boys hold hands. "Can I sleep at Adam's house tonight?"

Dad makes a big frown. Mam turns from the window. "Of course you can, dear." Dad's frown smoothes out and he nods.

Ianto turns his head. He hobbles over to Mam and takes her hand. "Mam?"

Dad is going to stop him. Dad looks like he wants to say something, but his mouth opens and closes like in the silent movies he likes to watch and he doesn't make a noise.

"Mam?"

"Go play with Adam, dear." Her face is calm, her eyes following a bird that swoops into view. The little white cat is meowing. They can let it outside when they go. But Ianto remembers the cat was hit by a car when he was seven; he cried and Dad shouted at him to stop crying.

Adam is beside him again, and the cat quiets. The cat is gone. There is no cat. "Let's go."

* * *

"Got it," Tosh said, excitement warming her voice. "It's definitely operational. I believe we can access the proper areas of the brain, but we'll have to run a test first."

Jack plopped himself into the chair beside her. "Test it on me."

"Can't," said Owen, coming up the stairs. "Your brain doesn't work like ours."

"On me, then," Gwen said from her station. "Tosh, you've got to run it. Owen can't go, and anyway he's dead so it probably won't work on him, either."

"Thanks."

Jack said, "Are you sure? If we're wrong, it could fry your brain."

Gwen smiled. "Tosh, are you wrong?" Tosh shook her head. "Good enough for me."

Tosh positioned the device over Gwen's head. She asked, "Ready?"

"Ready." Gwen held still as Tosh accessed the controls. A moment later, Gwen let out a little laugh. "I'm four, my Gran is there. My grandfather just told a naughty joke."

"Ooo, which joke?" Jack asked, because it was expected of him.

"I'm typing now," said Tosh. "What do you see?"

"Nothing. Wait. Now Gran wants a sandwich. Goat's cheese."

"Good. I typed in 'goat's cheese.'"

"Why?" asked Owen.

"It seemed random enough to provoke a response. Changing the settings again."

Gwen's face went sad. "It's the day we moved to Swansea. All my friends are staying here." The grief and youth in her voice were raw and unfiltered.

"Now what do you see?"

"It's the same day. Nothing's changed."

"What about now?"

"Now … I don't know. It's like I'm being hugged."

"I typed a hug." Tosh turned the device off and helped Gwen out of it.

"Okay," Jack said. "Round one. It works. Now how do we use it to help Ianto?"

* * *

He's too little to know how old he is, but he holds up two fingers when Mam asks. She always smiles when he's right. Rhi doesn't want him to play with the dolls she has carefully arranged around the handkerchief she is using as a picnic blanket. He likes to run his fingers over their soft hair, even the soft hair gnarled in knots, but she slaps his hands and lets him play with her ponies. They smell like plastic and like mould.

There's another little boy in the room, toddling around, picking up toys and looking at them. Rhi doesn't notice him at all.

"Hi," says Ianto.

"Hi. This is boring."

Ianto looks down at the pony. Its tail is one six-inch-long snarl of blue and pink nylon. He likes the pony.

"I want to play with it."

"So play." Rhiannon is making her dolls chatter to each other. "Yes, Mrs Mayweather would love some tea, thank you." Ianto stares, trying to keep up with the train of conversation. There is one boy doll at the table, a shirtless Ken doll, all fake tan and wide smile and bright blue eyes. He is Mr Templeton. "Would you like some tea, Mr Templeton?" Rhi asks in her high-pitched playpretend voice.

"No," Ianto says, making his voice deep and weirdly accented. "I would like some coffee, please."

"You're not playing," Rhi says, pushing him away.

The other little boy grabs Ianto's hand. "Come on. Let's do something fun. We always play together. Remember?"

Ianto does, but he has trouble remembering what they play. He is too little to ride a bicycle, or climb a tree, or camp out in Adam's garden, but he remembers. He settles on a memory of playing at soldiers. He remembers taking the Ken doll from Rhi's room and making him be the general because he is so tall.

No. Mr Templeton should be the captain.

"Come _on_ ," says Adam. "Let's play."

* * *

"Any response?"

"Nothing," said Owen. They could all see the same thing: no changes on the displayed brain scans, no visible changes in Ianto.

"What did you send?"

Tosh said, "I tried words he'd react to."

"Let me try," said Jack, reaching for the keyboard.

"I tried those words, too," said Tosh.

* * *

He's fifteen, and if he turns his head just so while he's at the front of the classroom, he can see right up Ashley Morgan's skirt, almost to the white of her cotton knickers. The trick is to look but not look like he's looking, a fast dart of his head but not too fast. School is a waste of time, but it's more trouble for him if he skives off than if he goes, and if he goes he can see girls.

Adam is sitting in the front row, his grin telling Ianto he knows exactly what view Ianto's got while waiting for his turn to talk to the teacher.

Ianto blinks and the class is over. Adam is walking beside him down the long, long corridor of the school, their arms brushing in tight camaraderie. "Ashley Morgan," Adam says, rolling her name slowly in his mouth. "I can't get enough of her, ever since that time when we both had her. Remember?"

Ianto's mouth goes dry, and he nods hard. He remembers Ashley's brown curls on her pillow, and her tight black curls as she spread her legs for him and again for his friend. The memory spikes through him, hot and vibrant, and he falls against a wall, panting.

"Sorry about that," says Adam, helping him stand. "I didn't know it affected you so much." He glances around, concerned.

* * *

"Still nothing," said Owen.

"What if we sent someone in?" asked Gwen.

Jack said, "Into his brain?"

"Get a second device. Hook them up." Gwen waved her hand. "It's Torchwood. We've done stranger things."

"We don't have a second device," said Tosh.

"Do we have something similar?" Jack asked, more to himself then the others. They'd already looked through the records, but Jack had been present for hundreds of retrievals. Surely there was something he could remember, if only he could think. The worry crowded his thoughts. If Adam was listening, Jack hoped he was getting a good laugh.

"No," said Tosh.

"Yes," said Owen, and he hurried up the stairs. From above them, they heard mutters and cursing and the beginnings of a mess Jack was only too happy to consider if it meant Ianto sitting up to complain.

Ianto stayed still, strapped as he was to the table in case whatever did get up wasn't him. Adam had been able to make them think things, do things. He'd coerced Toshiko into his bed, destroyed Owen's personality, stolen Gwen's memories of Rhys, and warped Ianto into a killer. He could turn them on one another, turn them on the world if he desired, and they'd never know. Jack would gladly sweep Ianto into his arms, but he couldn't risk anyone else's life until he was positive that danger was past.

Owen returned with a helmet.

"That's your gaming helmet," said Gwen.

Tosh took it, and her lips were moving. Jack could see the plans working their way inside her mind, even if she wasn't speaking to them just now. "Tosh?"

"You'd be flying completely blind," she breathed. "I can't work out a way to make Ianto's memories be the environment, but you'd have an avatar in there with him."

"Do it."

She bolted to her station to get to work.

Jack bent down beside Ianto. He didn't dare touch him. Jack flicked his glance to Gwen, who gave a quick nod and went upstairs after Tosh. Owen returned to his work at the far side of autopsy and pretended not to be listening.

Jack wanted to say all the right things: come back, don't give in, fight him, he's not real. He said in a whisper, "I'm sorry."

* * *

He will be twenty-six next month, but he tries not to think about it. Too many Torchwood employees don't live to see thirty. He knows Jack has this balancing act mastered, can keep himself from thinking about things that aren't, or can't be, and by not thinking about them, they happen. Jack is master of many things, and at this moment, he's sublime at making Ianto resent absolutely everything about him.

Jack's clothes are strewn over the small floor in his bunker. Ianto is shrugging back into his trousers.

"You're making too big a deal of this."

A number of replies come to him, but none is biting or witty enough. He settles for silence, stuffing his tie into his pocket and buttoning his shirt. It'll do to get him home. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Ianto."

He climbs up the ladder and out, not letting Jack call him back, not wanting to deal with this anymore. He's almost out of the Hub, almost out the door, but Adam's there, and so much for his unseen escape.

"Problem?"

"No. Nothing." Ianto knows how he looks. His mouth is sore and his throat is raw. He wiped his face with his hand, but has a bad feeling there's still a trace of semen drying to a crust on his cheek. God. Owen's the only one who calls him the office whore to his face, but he's sure the others must think the same.

"There's nothing shameful about a little lovers' spat," Adam says. He coaxes Ianto onto the sofa, and sits down beside him. "Care to talk about it?"

"I'd rather not." How could he ever explain this, even to Adam? Jack's past, his future, they complicate things, and some nights Ianto just wants to pretend this is a normal relationship, right up until the point Jack says or does something that reminds Ianto it never can be. He is at best a momentary distraction, a number on Jack's long list and a name he won't remember.

Adam seems to understand. "It's not easy being in love with someone like that. His life is so vast, and yours is, well, this." Adam glances around the Hub. It's dark, and shabby, and everyone dies young.

Ianto tries a weak protest. "I'm not in love with him. It's just sex."

"You are," said Adam. "But you can get past him. You know he doesn't feel the same way. That he never will."

"Why would I?" asks Jack, leaning over the railing from the catwalk. Ianto didn't hear him come up, and his voice is strange. "You run away from my bed, and now you're blubbering on the sofa?" There's a sneer on his face, but his voice has a long-suffering note, as if he's saying to Adam, "You see what I put up with?"

"Let's go," Adam said, taking Ianto's arm and pulling him up. "You're not appreciated here. I'm the only one who's always been there for you."

He wraps an arm around Ianto, leading him out to the cogwheel as Jack makes a disgusted noise in his throat.

 _"I'm sorry."_

Ianto did slink home, but Jack followed him, and went inside his flat with him, and they talked. Ianto was hurt, and Jack was afraid that all he would ever bring Ianto was hurt, and then Jack's mobile rang.

"No," says Adam, loudly. They're on the Plass. It's night, and the air is full of stars despite the streetlamps and light pollution. "You and I are going back to your flat, and we'll commiserate like we always do about bad choices we've made in our love lives."

Ianto could see the story unwinding before him: he and his lifelong friend sharing a few beers and tales from a lot of bad relationships, and Adam will lean in and kiss him, and Ianto will resist at first, thinking they'll ruin their friendship, then kiss him back. It's midnight, but by sunrise, they'll finally be making love like they've been meant to their whole lives. The memory of what has yet to happen bursts behind his eyes, so vivid he can feel Adam's strong hands on his hips, Adam's first thick, blunt thrust into his body.

Ianto pulls away. It's still night, he's still outside, he can still taste Jack on his tongue. "I just want to go for a walk," he says. "Clear my head. I'll ring you in the morning."

Adam takes his arm again. "I'll go with you. It's not safe, walking alone this late."

Ianto almost laughs. He has a gun and the training to use it, and he's angry at his lover and the world. He _is_ the most dangerous thing out here tonight, and he knows it.

Even as he draws breath to speak, he sees a rough-looking gang come onto the Plass, heading their way.

"Uh oh," says Adam, sounding anything but surprised. "Let's take them, like in the old days."

But that's not right. They didn't get into fights in the old days. Ianto ended up on the worse end of a couple of scraps, sure, but he stayed out of trouble because he'd catch hell from Dad if he got wind Ianto'd been fighting. He doesn't remember Adam wading in to help.

Adam's face twists. Then he deliberately reaches out and grabs Ianto's arm again. This time, he says nothing. He doesn't need to. Ianto hears the screams of the girls in his mind.

* * *

tbc


	2. Part Two

Part Two

* * *

"Give," said Jack, when Toshiko returned with the helmet.

"Do we have to go through this again?" Owen asked.

"I can use the helmet. You're not trying to see inside my head, you're letting me talk inside his." His hand stayed out.

"It's worth a try," Tosh said. "I may have enabled some two-way communication. It's going to be spotty."

Gwen said, "Jack, if you're in there, what's to stop Adam from getting into your head? We still aren't sure how he operates."

"Good question. Tie me to the chair. If you're not sure it's me, keep me there until you are. Gwen, you're in charge."

She nodded, swallowing.

"We can't shoot you, you know," Owen said, getting the straps ready. "You keep your memories when you die, so whatever neural thing he's doing, it'll stick."

"I know." Adam had come fully-formed from inside Jack's head, once he was past the Retcon block. Jack had died dozens of times since they'd killed Adam before.

Owen put the helmet on him, and Jack let himself be strapped to the chair. The leather seat gave only a little, his hands could wiggle but his arms and legs were bound with his own restraints. Normally, he'd enjoy this. Hell, part of him was already planning trying to talk Ianto into a repeat later, assuming this worked. For now, he was more nervous than he wanted to say aloud. Adam changed people. Adam had changed Jack's early memories of his family. Who knew how deeply he'd managed to worm himself into Ianto's mind by this point?

"Ready?" Tosh asked.

Jack kept the nervousness to himself. "Go."

 

* * *

He's twenty-two. He's used to wearing a tie to work, used to being another face in the office pool, used to doing his job and keeping his head down. All that vanishes whenever she walks by in a cloud of jasmine perfume. Then Ianto is tongue-tied and red-faced and he talks too loud. He's going to lose this cushy new job because he can't think straight when he's in the room with the girl from HR, and it's driving him crazy.

"She's just so gorgeous," he says in the staff room, hands wrapped around a cup of less than stellar coffee. "And I'm a complete arse when she's around."

"Sounds like love to me," says Adam, drinking his own coffee. He still looks weird with a tie, respectable. "Talk to her."

"I don't know what to say! She's beautiful. She's educated. I'm … "

" … a right tosser. You have a point." Adam nudges Ianto's shoulder. "Just go up to her and say hello. Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Once or twice," says a new voice.

Ianto and Adam look at the man who has entered the staff room.

"What in God's name are you wearing?"

 

* * *

Jack said, "I have no idea what I'm wearing. Tosh?"

"Oh," Tosh said. He could barely hear her, muffled by the helmet. "You're wearing the basic armour pack from the character build."

"I'm _what_?"

Owen said, "It's an avatar. We didn't customise it."

 

* * *

"I'm _what_?"

Ianto's gaze goes up and down. The man is wearing chainmail, tight leather breeches, and a stern if somewhat pixelated expression. This being Torchwood, it's not the strangest thing Ianto's ever seen.

"It's an alien," Adam says, pushing Ianto out of the way. "Call security."

"I'm not an alien," says the stranger. "Ianto, can you hear me?"

Ianto nods his head.

"Ianto?"

Adam says, "He's a telepath. He's already getting into your mind. I'll hold him off."

"Ianto, I can't see you. Say something. I can hear Adam. Don't listen to him. He's an alien we found … "

"Come on!" Adam shouts. He grabs Ianto and they run, calling for the security troops. As they go, Ianto sees Lisa, and he pulls free of Adam's hand.

"Lisa, you have to run." Suddenly, this is very, very important. Lisa can't be here. She's in danger. "You have to get out of here!"

"Ianto?" This is from the stranger, who is right beside him. "Are we with Lisa? Is this in Cardiff or in London?" The man sounds frightened, but his face never changes from the digital smile.

Lisa is smart, and calm, and helpful. "We're in London."

"Okay, Ianto. This isn't real. None of this is real. You are in Cardiff now. This is a memory of Torchwood London."

"Not anymore," Adam says, and he grabs Ianto's arm.

 

* * *

Jack said, "Dammit, they're gone. Tosh!"

"Changing the settings. Hold on."

 

* * *

He is eleven, and Mam is going away. Rhiannon says she tried to burn the house down, and Rhi and Dad stopped her. Ianto wasn't there. He doesn't believe his sister, and he shouts at her that she's lying, that she's jealous. He's satisfied when she breaks into tears and shuts herself in her own room.

Dad is with Mam. He drove her to the facility by himself and left the two of them here alone. Ianto keeps wishing that he'll drive back, and Mam will be with him, and they'll say it was all a joke, all a surprise. Really, the family is going on holiday to somewhere nice together, because Mam is better now.

He doesn't know that he's crying until Adam hands him a handkerchief. "You can talk to me about it."

Ianto shakes his head. "Nothing to say."

"Did I ever tell you how I lost my parents?"

"No." Adam lives next door. Adam has always lived next door. He lives with someone Ianto has never met, even though he sleeps over all the time.

"It was awful. Our … vehicle crashed, and I was alone. I've been waiting ever since to find people who loved me and wanted me around as much as they did."

"Keep looking."

Ianto and Adam glance over. There's a stranger in chainmail standing in the doorway to Ianto's room. Ianto thinks he knows him, somehow, thinks of the abandoned Barbies in Rhi's bedroom, the headless dolls, the Ken doll who lost his left arm.

"Ianto," says the stranger. "You've got to remember. Wherever you are right now, this isn't happening. This is only a memory, and Adam is changing it. He lives inside memories. Please, Ianto." There's an echo to his voice, and also a catch.

From nowhere, Ianto hears the meow of the white kitten. White kitten with dark socks. "I can hear a cat," says the stranger. "You said you had a cat when you were little. Are you a child now?"

He wants to answer no, that he's practically grown up.

"Don't say anything," Adam hisses. "A strange man is breaking into your bedroom. He wants to touch you. We have to run."

Adam takes his arm.

 

* * *

"Fantastic," Jack said. "They're gone again, and Adam just told him I'm a child molester."

"Jack," Gwen said, from somewhere outside the helmet. "How are you going to get him free? If Ianto doesn't believe you, what are you going to do to get rid of Adam?"

 

* * *

He is twenty-three and the world is burning. "Let me help," Adam says, and he takes Lisa's other arm, helps Ianto drag her to safety as the flames and the screams surround them.

There's a man in chainmail waiting. Ianto is losing his mind. Another Cyberman? Someone from UNIT?

"Ianto," says the man, "this isn't real."

 

* * *

He is twenty-four, and Adam is clutching him, part in embrace, part holding him back. The others are spraying bullets at what remains of the woman he loves, and Ianto is shrieking.

Adam breathes into his ear intimately, "I've got you. You're safe now. You're going on suspension for a while, and I'll come see you every day, find out how you're doing, bring you out of your shell." The words blossom into images: Adam at Ianto's flat, Adam bringing him food and conversation, Adam giving him meaning to his life again. Adam will fill all the empty spaces in Ianto's life until Ianto relies on him like air.

Lisa's body and Annie's body are both unmoving, both covered in blood. Jack swaggers past them like a conquering hero, and Ianto has never hated anyone so much in all his life.

"Sh," Adam says. "Sh."

The man in chainmail is there. "Found them. Ianto, talk to me."

Ianto raises his tear-stained and bloody face to the man in the armour. He sounds exactly like the bastard who shot Lisa. "Fuck you."

Adam says, "Let's get you out of here."

 

* * *

He is nineteen, and Dad never woke up from the last stroke. The remains of their family scattered a while ago, but they have friends, and people who worked with Dad at the store. Ianto tries to be pleasant at the funeral luncheon. Some ladies from the estate are bunched around Rhi, who is sobbing again. David's playing on the rug. Johnny's drinking.

Ianto hates this place so much.

"Sorry, mate," says Adam. "I'll always be here for you."

"Ianto?" There's the voice again. A crazily-dressed man is standing on the rug beside David, but David doesn't see him at all. No-one does. He isn't real. Ianto is cracking up just like Mam did.

Finally, finally, he lets out a sob of his own.

"I'm right here," says the man, stepping forward clumsily through David. "He's using you. Making you remember him in places he never was."

Ianto turns to Adam, who puts on a patient smile. "Are you really going to believe a madman in armour over your best friend?"

Adam can hear and see the man. No-one else can. If Ianto is crazy, so is Adam. But if the hallucination on the rug is right, none of this is real.

"I need … " He breaks away from Adam, and he runs. Rhiannon and the rest call after him. Ianto at least is real. He's been having doubts.

A memory. Today is about memories. Dad fills a bad one. Ianto closes his eyes.

He is eight years old, and he is at the playground. He wants to go high on the swing like the big boys do, but he can't figure out how. Instead he sits sulking on a swing as it hangs.

Nothing is real, he thinks. This seems natural and correct in a way surpassing the smell of the air and the cut-up turf of the playground. There's a man. He looks ridiculous. Something in the back of Ianto's head tells him the man's a pervert, out to snatch little kids. Something further back tells him he can trust the man with his life. Something even deeper down than that tells him not to.

"Ianto, where are we now?"

"We're at the playground."

"How old are you?"

"Eight."

"Do you know who I am?"

Ianto shakes his head. He remembers something. The man can't see him. "No."

"Okay. My name is Jack. I'm your … I'm your friend."

"You don't look like my friend."

"When you're older, we'll be very good friends."

 

* * *

From outside the helmet, Jack could hear Owen's cut-off laugh.

Then he heard someone smacking dead flesh.

 

* * *

"Ianto, you need to come back with me. Adam has you trapped inside your memories, and we need you to wake up."

"I have a friend named Adam." Adam isn't here. Ianto wants to think Adam is his best friend, but that's not right. His best friend is the person he tells all his secrets to, the person he laughs with, and thinks about, and wants to share his triumphs and sorrows with. While he can remember Adam being present for every one of those, Ianto suddenly and clearly knows he doesn't want Adam there.

"You really don't."

The man sparkles and wavers like he is made of points of light instead of skin and bone. He's dressed like some dorky knight, and his smile is weird. But he reminds Ianto of another smile, another crazy yet perfect outfit, and his eyes are bright blue.

"Jack?"

"Do you remember me?"

Memories trickle in and around him, burning like scorching steel under his hands. Ianto recoils. "Yes." It comes out in a low hiss. He's in the playground. This is where he gets hurt.

"He hurt you," says Adam, who is suddenly sitting there on the next swing. "He always hurts you. I always help you. Don't you remember?"

"Don't let him touch you," Jack says. Ianto stumbles off the swing and away from Adam's hands.

"Don't trust him," Adam says.

"I don't trust either of you."

"Good instinct," they both say at once. From the other end of the park, his father is walking towards him.

Ianto closes his eyes.

 

* * *

"Hold him there," Tosh said.

"I can't hold him. Adam's moving him around. Or maybe Ianto is, trying to get away."

"Just stay put a few minutes."

 

* * *

He's twenty-five, and the Plass is empty. The rough gang is gone. Adam isn't here either. He knows somehow that Adam will return.

Ianto goes back into the Hub. Jack is still standing at the catwalk railing, and hasn't moved since Ianto last saw him. Cautiously, Ianto climbs the stairs and walks over to him. He pushes on Jack's arm, but it doesn't yield the way Jack's skin always does under his touch.

"Jack?"

"Right here," says the crazy man in the chainmail, from beside him. "When are we?"

Ianto licks his lips, but the nervous gesture is lost. "Last night."

"Do you remember what happened?"

His face burns all over again. "We had sex in your bunker. We went down on each other. Then I said I loved you. You made a joke. I left before I could embarrass myself further."

"Do you remember that I followed you?"

Ianto hesitates. He remembers talking with Adam as he made the walk of shame, remembers Jack mocking him from the catwalk until he fled outside. There was a gang, and he and Adam were going to fight them, and maybe they were going to go back to his place and fuck, and then there were screams.

He also remembers going home, with Jack's car behind his, and his mobile ringing while Ianto refused to answer. He remembers arriving at his flat, and taking Jack inside so he wouldn't wake the neighbours, and he remembers fighting. The words are jumbled in his head, but he remembers the meaning: Jack was scared shitless of falling in love with him, scared of what it meant, and he was sorry for the joke but he was terrified. Jack's broken hearts stay with him forever. Jack was about to say something else when his own mobile rang. It was Gwen.

"I remember a lot of things." He backs away again. Jack is the source of so much pain.

"Do you remember," Jack clears this throat. For the first time, Ianto knows the others can hear him, wherever he is. "Do you remember that I said I'm not ready, but that I'll give you whatever I can until I am? That I want this, with you?"

"I don't think you made it that far."

"Oh." There's a change in the air. They won't be alone for long. Jack must sense it too. "He'll find us here any time. Ianto, you can't run away from him now. Tosh needs you to stay put. I think she has a plan to get you out."

Adam is right there. "Clever," he says. "I almost didn't think of looking for you here."

"Leave him alone," Jack says, flexing his absurdly oversized muscles. "He knows what you are."

"Me? I'm his best friend."

"No, that's Jack." Ianto sighs. "Unfortunately."

"Jack doesn't like you." Adam nods to the statue-Jack, who comes to fluid life.

"Oh, for crying out loud," says the Jack who isn't really Jack. "Now you're inventing video game versions of me to talk to? And he still won't be all romantic and tell you that he wuvs you back. Great job there, Yan-toe. Are you going to make a pretend Lisa fucktoy, too?"

"This was not the best time to make an entrance," says a new voice, a woman. Her silky black hair is pulled back into a long, long ponytail. She wears form-fitting studded leather armour that shows off an impressive amount of boob, and her boots have heels longer than Ianto's hand.

Chainmail-wearing Jack says, "Tosh?"

"We had another helmet," she says, and she pulls out a heavy-looking sword, waving it around like a tennis racquet.

"My Toshiko," says Adam, reaching out to her. His hand passes right through her digital body.

"You can't touch me here," Tosh says. "Jack, can you get Ianto out?"

"I think so. Ianto, are you ready to wake up?"

"No."

"Do it anyway. That's an order."

Adam says, "It doesn't matter if he wakes up. He's mine now. I'm in all of his memories. You can't get rid of me without killing Ianto. What do you say, Jack? There's your choice. Kill me and you lose him."

Chainmail Jack reaches out and takes Ianto's hand. They're not touching. The avatar is only an illusion. But Ianto feels the contact anyway, and in a lifetime of memories, it's the most solid thing he's ever felt. "We'll find a way to get rid of you eventually," Jack says. "But we're getting Ianto back first." There's a firmness in his voice that drives through Ianto and pins him like a butterfly to cork, forever displayed with a small brass plaque: _This specimen belongs to Captain Jack Harkness._ He wants to believe it's love, but right now, he's got Jack's loyalty, and that's a fine thing as well.

"There's always option three," says Tosh, a happy note to her own voice. "We're here with our avatars. They're used for a game. I know the cheat codes. And you have to abide by your own rules."

Adam turns to her in horror.

The gun, Ianto remembers. A creature made of memory recoiled from Jack's Webley because if they believed his death, he'd die. Lovely, brilliant Tosh. He smiles as she raises the sword smoothly into the air and slices Adam in two.

"Time to go," says Jack, and he tugs on the hand he isn't really holding. Ianto thinks of home, and the Hub, and where he belongs. He closes his eyes one more time.

 

* * *

He opened his eyes. He was still in the Hub, but instead of the catwalk, he was in autopsy, strapped down to the bed. On the chair beside him, Jack sat with Owen's old gaming helmet on his head. Ianto couldn't lift his head to see, but he felt Jack holding his hand with a grip that said he didn't intend to let go.

Jack tore off the helmet with his free hand. Tosh lifted another off her own head. No long black ponytail, just the same haircut she'd always had. A small, triumphant smile peeked on her lips as Gwen helped her put the helmets away.

"Is he gone?" Ianto asked Owen, instead of saying hello.

"No way to tell. In theory, all we should have to do is Retcon ourselves again. Twenty-four hours should cover it."

Gwen said, "I'll call Rhys in. But Jack, he's still got the old memories."

"Make him write a note to himself to never, ever mention it to us."

Ianto lay back since he couldn't do anything else. "Retcon won't work. Adam's right. He's a part of all my memories now." Ianto poked through his mind, saw the same face growing up with him, saw Adam in his house, saw him here in the Hub. Ianto knew the memories were false, but they were as real as his memories of this morning.

"Shouldn't be," said Owen. "Those are new memories. The old ones are still in there. If we wipe out everything he changed in the last day, it ought to reset your brain." He was talking to Ianto, but his eyes were on Jack. "Ought to" wasn't the same as "will."

"If it doesn't work?" Ianto was frightened, but more than that, he was tired. He'd already done the life-flashing-before-his-eyes thing today. His life had sucked.

Jack said, "We'll worry about that later."

"Jack."

"It'll be fine."

Ianto couldn't suppress a memory of Adam smirking, the sounds of screams. "No. It won't. Promise me you won't let me hurt anyone."

Jack watched him. Then he nodded. "I promise."

 

* * *

They woke up groggy and unhappy. Ianto had had Retcon hangovers before. They never failed to make him wish he'd never heard of the stuff. Give him enough, and the wish would come true, he supposed. He wasn't envious of Owen for much these days, but the undead were at least immune to having their memories tampered with and suffering the resulting mornings after.

"Why are we here?" asked Gwen. Rhys was waking beside her, uncomfortable in his chair.

"Protocol 246," Owen said, putting down his newspaper. "You can't be allowed to remember what you forgot. It's even banned from the secure archives."

Jack was furious. "Owen, I don't like secrets. What the hell happened?"

"If I told you, it would happen again." Owen pulled a face. "Okay, memory lane time. Ianto, tell me about your dad's funeral."

"What?" What kind of a question was that to ask?

"Your dad died. He had a funeral. Who came?"

"I don't know." He thought. "My sister and her family. Some friends from where we lived, people he worked with. Why?"

"Any friends of yours there?"

"Probably. I dunno." He didn't like this questioning, really didn't like the stares he was getting from the others. "I didn't have a lot of friends then."

"No-one stands out?"

"No."

"And when they took your mum away?"

Now he was angry. "None of your fucking business."

Jack said in a warning voice, "Owen?"

Owen sounded faintly bored, and a little regretful. "These were the days you wanted me to ask about. When your dad drove your mum away, who was in the house with you?"

"Just my sister."

"Nobody else?"

"No. We fought. We went to our rooms. Dad came home later." Alone.

Owen smiled like a bloody sphinx. "Okay. I pronounce you cured. Go forth and do something you promise never to tell me about to celebrate." Owen waved him off like a schoolchild.

Muttering under his breath, Ianto stormed out of the room.

He did hear Jack ask Owen, "What the hell was that all about?"

"Saving his life."

 

* * *

Jack found Ianto in the main part of the Hub, tidying up whatever they'd done and couldn't remember. He watched for a moment, ticking over in his mind the letter Owen had given him, in Jack's own writing. _Trust Owen. If Ianto gives the wrong answer to Owen's questions, he isn't Ianto anymore. You need to be the one to do it. You owe him that. You can't touch him when you do._ He'd signed the letter with his code from the Time Agency, the one he used for special circumstances and needed to know for certain a message was from himself. And below it, Ianto had scrawled his own name.

If Ianto had answered incorrectly, Owen would have told Jack. Jack would have had to kill his lover for a reason Jack wasn't even allowed to know, and Ianto would trust him, had trusted him, to do it.

Rhys had also read a letter he'd apparently written to himself. He wouldn't show the letter to anyone. Jack was fine with never knowing what Rhys's stipulation had been. He planned to burn his own letter the minute he had a lighter handy, and to try to forget it had ever existed.

Jack folded his arms. "Ianto. You okay?"

"Fine. An entire day of my life is gone, again, but I'm fine. You?"

"I'm fine, too."

Jack didn't feel fine. He felt scared. He looked at Ianto, and he was frightened all over again, and for no reason he could remember to name. The others were elsewhere, and they were alone. Jack took the chance to take Ianto's hand, though he was taking the comfort this time.

Ianto was twitchy, like he wanted to move, like he wanted to do something, say something. Jack stopped any possible words with a kiss, which Ianto barely returned.

"Let's go out tonight," Jack said. "Someplace nice. We'll make new memories."

Ianto nodded, but his eyes were focused on the catwalk. "When you're ready, I'll be here." It was odd phrasing for their date plans, and even Ianto looked startled as he said the words. Then he shook his head, and covered with a bland expression Jack didn't believe for a moment but couldn't bear to unpack with the letter heavy in his pocket.

Somewhere there was a world where Ianto had answered incorrectly. Somewhere, there was a Jack with a gun in his hand, having to choose between protecting the world from an unknown threat or saving the man he was falling in love with despite all his efforts. Jack didn't have to choose today. It was as good as a win.

"Good." With another quick kiss and a squeeze to his hand, Jack went back to his office. He had something to burn.

 

* * *

The End

* * *

AN: As always, my three favorite words are: "I liked this."


End file.
